


One Shot

by sevendeadlyfun



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Canon, M/M, Season/Series 07
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-08
Updated: 2007-05-16
Packaged: 2017-12-20 21:51:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/892296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevendeadlyfun/pseuds/sevendeadlyfun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's over. Or is it? Spike and Xander come back together, one scene at a time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Missing Piece

Pairing: Spike/Xander

Rating: Erm...R? Naughty language and references to m/m sex

A/N: I had this snippet of a dream this morning and this is the result. This is post-NFA, and probably a one-shot, unless I get another dream.

 

  


“Roomies again, eh Fangless? Ah how I missed the sweet sweet irritation of your presence,” Xander said lightly, standing in the doorway.  
  
“Know what you want,” Spike murmured. “What you always wanted. Not so thick that I don’t know. All I’m good for, innit?”  
  
Xander blinked, startled. Okay, yeah Spike’s all with the crazy. So much for the stellar “Get Spike Sane” plan. You can take the vamp out of the basement, but you can’t take the evil psycho basement hallucinations out of the vamp.  
  
“Riiight,” Xander said slowly. “You know what I want. Gotcha. Mind telling me so we can both know?”  
  
“ ‘S what you all want,” Spike said dully. “Angelus, Dru, Buffy. S’pose I ought to be grateful I’m good. Wicked an’ evil, but I got talent, don’t I? Can give and give, open and bleeding. Just take what you want, Harris. Not like anyone’ll know. Or care.”  
  
“And I’m so not on board the crazy train, Spike. What the fuck are you rambling about,” Xander asked, mystified.  
  
“You,” Spike told him, finally looking up. “Smell it every time you get near me. Since that first night. Just do it and be done.”  
  
Xander shook his head, and grimaced. Clearly getting a straight answer out of Spike was hopeless. That wasn’t anything new, though. Xander hadn’t ever gotten a straight answer out of the bleached menace before, so why should the crazy make any difference? With a sigh, he turned around and left.  
  
“Night, Spike,” he called out. “Try to sleep. Might help with the sanity issue.”  
  
Spike waited, patient and still. He listened to the rhythm of Xander’s heart, losing himself in the thub dub. That was what was missing. It was why he couldn’t find his way. He’d flailed and floundered for so long now. Good, evil, he didn’t know anymore what he was supposed to be. He’d tried so hard, changed so many times he barely remembered who he was anymore. But, he’d figured it out. He’d thought and thought, rolling it over in his mind until finally he’d figured it out. Now, he just had to wait. He could do that. He’d been waiting forever. What was another hour?  
  
When the rhythm slowed, he crept from his bed. Slinking along in the shadows, he made his way to Xander’s room. Quiet, quiet. Wouldn’t do to make a sound. A century’s worth of deadly skill and he was shaking now at the thought of crossing a mere two feet of carpet. Funny Spike, so ridiculous and worthless.  
  
No. He shook his head violently. Not now, not anymore. He’d show them that he could be what they wanted. If he was good enough, he’d find what he needed, what was missing.  
The spark hadn’t helped. He thought it would, but it didn’t. The missing piece found and he still didn’t fit. One more piece, than. One more and it would all make sense. He’d fit, they’d fit, it would all fit.  
  
He reached out a finger, stopping a hairsbreadth from Xander’s lips. He wished he could taste those lips, feel the sweetness of their loving touch. But that wasn’t real. Buffy had kissed him and there had been no sweetness there. He understood now what Drusilla said to him. The taste of ashes was horrible, and nothing washed it away. Spike fancied that if he kissed Xander, really kissed him, the dusty heaviness in his mouth would disappear.  
  
No matter. He knew now to discipline himself out of hope. It was so difficult, not to want it. Arms that welcomed him, kept him safe and warm; hands that touched him gently; eyes that glowed only for him. Those weren’t for him. Just this, skin on skin, being finally complete. That was all, and it would have to be enough.  
  
Spike gently slid the blanket away from Xander’s sleeping form. The young man’s body glowed, luminous, in the sliver of moonlight. Spike smiled at the sight, drinking in the long lines of Xander’s nude body. It was strong. A strength he could see and respect. Uncomplicated as women’s bodies were not.   
  
With smooth unhurried grace, Spike straddled Xander’s lean hips. He was prepared, slicked and oh so ready for this. He reached behind him, one slim hand circling the silky rigidity of Xander’s cock. Spike slid all the way down, taking Xander deep inside him just as Xander’s eyes flew open.  
  
“Sp-spike? What the…oooh,” Xander moaned.  
  
“Tired of waiting,” Spike said huskily. “Told you I knew what you wanted. The only thing any of you want. ‘Cept this time, it’s my decision. I’m not giving, I’m taking. “  
  
Xander could only stare wide-eyed as Spike rode his dick. The sweet lazy movements of Spike above him, the soft pale skin shining silver, it all felt like a dream. Xander lifted a hand up, tentatively stroking the outside of Spike’s thigh. It was unreal, feeling firm hard muscle under his fingers instead of round softness.   
  
“Need it,” Spike crooned. “Need to fit. Xander, make me fit.”  
  
Xander moaned deep in his throat. It wasn’t real, it wasn’t real, but it felt so damn good. Feeling Spike flutter around his cock, tight and wet, was the best feeling in the world. Xander grasped at Spike’s rocking hips, trying to chase this pleasure back to its source. His balls ached, drawing up as the familiar sweet burn sizzled and crackled along his shaft.  
  
“Spike,” he groaned. “Spike, I’m gonna…Need to…fuck!”  
  
Xander’s body bowed, arching towards that cool satiny sheathe. His cock twitched, emptying into Spike’s welcoming body. As the roar of his orgasm faded, he relaxed, body going limp.  
  
Spike watched him, avidly absorbed in the expressions of pleasure on Xander’s face. He sat perfectly still, legs clenched tight around Xander. As Xander began to relax, Spike lifted himself off the now softening prick.  
  
“Thank you,” Spike said softly and turned to go.  
  
Xander, dazed and sated, could only watch the vampire leave. He wanted to be angry, but he wasn’t. He should feel used, but he didn’t. He felt…Xander struggled to put his feelings into some sort of coherency. He felt…cherished. Spike had given him something important. Something stronger than sex and deeper than souls, maybe.   
  
Xander resolved to figure this out. As soon as the world wasn’t ending, he promised himself. Once this thing with The First was out of the way, they’d have time to sit down and he’d make Spike explain.  
  
---


	2. Why We Fight

Pairing: Spike/Xander

Rating: Erm...R? Naughty language and references to m/m sex

A/N: I had this snippet of a dream this morning and this is the result. This is post-NFA, and probably a one-shot, unless I get another dream.

 

Spike stalked through the shadows, the sounds of the city fading into a thumping pulse. The hunt consumed him, especially when it was going so well. His prey was completely unaware of him and Spike, poised for the kill, smiled mirthlessly. So easy, so simple; hunt, kill, melt away until the next night. Felt good, felt right, not like before.

He never got used to “patrolling”. Sounded like a Mick beat cop, starched up and whistling. He wasn’t anyone’s hero, not Chosen. He was a ruthless killer with so much blood staining his hands he couldn’t ever be clean. Didn’t matter now though.

Gliding forward out of the shadows, Spike wrapped his hands around the thick neck, snapping it cleanly and quietly. No more flashy moves for him, just the satisfaction of rich ripe death. He dropped the body, knowing that someone else would eventually deal with it. Hunters didn’t clean up their kills, after all.

Turning on his heel, he slid back into the shadows. His work done for the night, Spike headed for his favorite bar. No proper pubs in this Yank hellhole, but the music wasn’t half-bad and the bartender was a generous pourer. All in all, he’d spent time in worse places.

Wolfram and Hart, for one. Damn Angelus for his stupid nobility. Willing to die for strangers and evil strangers at that, but couldn’t be bothered with his own blood. Spike had railed at him for that, before the alley. Sure, save the world. That wasn’t what ate at Spike. It was the fact that Angelus could condemn his own family to a lingering death, but jump on the metaphorical (and sometimes literal) stake for a bunch of rotten minions of evil.

“And what would you have me do, Spike?” The sigh, so much a part of his souled Sire, still reverberated in his very bones. “Drusilla was evil.”

“Yeah,” Spike had nodded fondly. “She was that. But so are all these tosser yer trying to reform. And Dru’s yer blood.”

“You’re telling me you’d…what, Spike? Send Drusilla off with a pat on the head and a toddler?”

“Well, wouldn’t give her the tyke,” Spike protested. “But, unlike some poncy gits I know, I don’t kill my family.”

Got to put that one to the test a few months ago. Caught Dru mid-snack and he smiled wistfully at the memory. He’d stopped her, yanked her off the dishy little blonde she had her fangs in and sent her on her merry way with a warning to stay out of his turf. Didn’t stake her, even though the soul screamed at him for days afterwards.

He missed his family, even now. Drusilla, cavorting around who knows where now, mad and wicked and delicious. Darla, dust twice over, green eyes as cold and calculating as her whore’s heart. Angelus, tall and beautiful, souled or evil, trying to put his stamp on the world.

Spike shook his head, trying to shake off the memories of better times. He’d gotten maudlin since it had ended. He’d gotten too used to warm arms surrounding him, helping him bear the weight of his soul. Carrying it alone, he felt that he failed more often than not. Made him nostalgic for earlier days, made him long for a long gone past. Before sweet brown eyes tempted him into believing he could be a better man.

He turned into the bar on automatic, not really paying attention anymore. This was the drunken oblivion portion of the evening. Enough Jack and he could forget all he’d lost. Enough Jack and he wouldn’t lie awake, longing for someone he couldn’t have.

He collided with a large body. Irritation had him growling and wishing he could still flash the fang; send this bastard fleeing in terror. He settled for the growl, intent on moving past the obstacle and getting to the booze. Hands scrabbled over his face, and Spike brought his arms up, ready to knock the over-friendly obstacle into unconsciousness. But, he heard the voice, whispering his name.

“Spike?”

The voice. THAT voice, the one that sent him to the bottom of every available bottle. The voice he heard in his dreams, strained to hear when he was awake. That lovely voice soothed him from his terror-stricken nightmares, and inflamed him to the peak of desire.

“Xander” the name fell from his lips, hushed and reverent.

Spike had imagined this moment a million times. He’d done this cool and polite, raging and demonic, had shattered the beautiful boy with his fists and sent him weeping away. But, never, not once, in all of Spike’s fantasies, had Xander pushed him against a wall and latched his blunt human teeth to Spike’s neck. Unfortunate, really, he thought dazedly, as a bit of practice might’ve come in handy.

“Xander” this time the word was a strange mixture of moan and sob,

“Mine,” Xander muttered into his neck. “Mine and I’m sorry. I screwed up, Spike. I knew it almost as soon as I’d done it. But you were gone and I couldn’t find you. Been looking for you since that night. Love you, baby. Forever mine.”

Spike struggled. He wanted to submit, to be Xander’s. The constant ache that had defined his life since that night throbbed now, demanding to be soothed. But, it had hurt so bad. The disgust, the dismissal, wounded him to his core. Even now, as Xander claimed him, Spike could still hear other, harsher words.

“Spike,” Xander pleaded with him. “Spike, please. Talk to me, hit me, something. Baby, I’m sorry.”  
“Don’t call me that,” Spike rasped, sagging in Xander’s arms. “Not yours.”

Xander pulled back, shock written on his face. His eyes were flat; his arms limp by his side. Spike stayed still, his own emotions swerving madly.

“ ‘S not so easy, is it? Trusted you, Xan. Trusted you and you beat me down harder than th’Slayer ever did. I’m slow but I’m not stupid,” Spike said hollowly. “Learned the first time not to come back for round two of kick the Spike.”

“Oh baby,” Xander lifted a hand, as if to caress the stubborn planes on Spike’s face. He didn’t though, and for that, Spike was grateful. One more touch and he’d forget everything he’d learned. One more touch and he’d give in, fall into those arms that promised peace, the scents that meant home.

“Could have handled punches, a bit of bleeding,” Spike continued, the words forcing themselves out. “Can take a lot. But, the things you said and you didn’t let me explain. Wasn’t my fault and you wouldn’t listen. Just kept…and I was…I needed you and you just…”

“Ssh,” Xander crooned, still keeping his distance. “I know. Now, I know and I was wrong. Let me make it up to you. Please, b-Spike, please. I love you.”

“Love you too,” Spike admitted quietly. “Can’t do anything else but love you.”

“Than let me try,” Xander urged him. “I can’t undo it, can’t make it disappear. But, let me try to make it up to you.”

“Not sure I can,” Spike told him. “You hurt me, Xander. You knew, I bloody told you how it was with me and her an’ you promised me. Swore you’d never do me like that.”

A tear slipped down Spike’s cheek, his fragile control finally done in. He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, allowing his pain to leak out. It was just too much, to be so close to the man he loved and to feel this bad.

Xander made his frustrated noise, half-sigh and half-groan and all Xander. Spike let it wash over like a salve, the familiar sound soothing and sweet. Poor Xander, trying to respect him and keep his distance when he clearly wanted to do so much more. Boy was a born comforter, always wanting to ease the hurt.

“I don’t know,” Xander murmured. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to make this better.”

“Can’t,” Spike said heavily. “Why bother?”

“Because I love you,” Xander shouted. “Because there isn’t a single damn second that you aren’t on my mind. Because you make my fucking life worth living.”

“Then why’d you make me go,” Spike asked forlornly. “Why wouldn’t you listen to me?”

“ ‘Cause I’m an idiot,” Xander whispered, finally giving in to his urges and dragging Spike to him. “I let my idiot self ruin the best thing that ever happened to me, and now I don’t know how to make it right.”

With his head in its rightful spot on Xander’s shoulder, and his body’s empty hollows filled with the muscular firmness of Xander’s body, it was hard to remember why he was saying no. Spike steeled himself, trying to stay strong. No more being love’s bitch, no more coming to heel like a whipped puppy.

Still, he reasoned, wouldn’t hurt to just enjoy this.

Xander clearly must have heard his resolve shattering, because those warm full lips were sprinkling kisses on his head and neck. Spike nuzzled into the caresses, remembering the beauty of the easy affection that lay between them. The days they’d spent in bed, memorizing the dips and curves of each other bodies, kissing for hours.

“Will you let me,” Xander asked him. “Just give me another chance to prove myself to you. No more Slayers, no more Watchers. Just us.”

Spike reluctantly pulled back from the sweet haven of Xander’s arms. He nodded, a quick jerk of his head. Xander whooped joyfully, reaching out to bring Spike close to him.

“No,” Spike told him, evading Xander’s hands. “You want to a chance and I’ll give it to you. You gave me a chance when I didn’t deserve it, an’ I’ll do the same for you. But it ain’t goin’ to be like it was, Xan. Not going to fall into your arms or your bed just ‘cause you apologized.”

Xander nodded eagerly, the sheer delight on his face making it hard for Spike to keep from grinning. Spike managed to stay stern. Didn’t want to give Xander the wrong impression. All was not forgiven or forgotten.

“Anything you say,” Xander agreed, still smiling. “I’ll go apartment hunting tomorrow. Think you could give me some tips? Maybe come along, help me pick out a nice place?”

Spike nodded again, not trusting himself to speak. He remembered the last time they’d gone looking for a flat together. How proud his lover had been, planning all the fixing and fussing he’d do. How they christened every single room the first night, finally collapsing sweaty and sated in each other’s arms.

“Well, now that we’ve had this huge scene, maybe we should find somewhere else to get a drink,” Xander suggested tentatively. “Unless you don’t want to get a drink with me?”

“Could go for a drink,” Spike said softly. “But yeah, might be a good idea to find a different bar.”

“Lead on.” Xander gestured towards the outer door.

Walking down the street, Spike let Xander’s babble sweep over him without really paying attention. He still wasn’t sure about this. He didn’t know how they’d get past all the ugliness to something sweeter. He was tired of fighting; fighting himself and the world, just to get smacked down. Just as he was about to tell Xander that it wasn’t worth the fight, he felt an arm snake around his waist, holding him up.

All right, he conceded silently. So maybe it was worth the fight. 


	3. Because I Told You So

Pairing: Spike/Xander

Rating: Eh...PG? Nothing especially naughty here...

A/N: This is Part III of my one-shot series. I can't even write a one-shot without turning it into a series. It's a sad sad affliction...

Previous Parts:

Part I: [The Missing Piece](http://community.livejournal.com/bloodclaim/2165876.html)

Part II: [Why We Fight](http://community.livejournal.com/bloodclaim/2161218.html)

 

Xander pushed open the door to Spike’s apartment building. Six months since he’d found Spike, two years since they’d broken up and now they only saw each other once a week. Xander grimaced, shifting restlessly as he waited for the elevator.

Six months and they hadn’t kissed or hugged. He understood, he really did. It was just…difficult. They hadn’t done anything vaguely romantic or sexual for the same reason they always met at Spike’s apartment. Spike didn’t trust him.

Sighing, Xander strode into the elevator and stabbed the button that would take him to Spike. Date night was fraught with peril. In fact, Xander was more nervous on Monday nights than he’d ever been back on the Hellmouth.

It was Monday night because Spike hunted during the weekends. The first time Spike had said that, Xander quietly corrected him. It wasn’t hunting, it was patrolling. Spike sneered at him, cold and hateful.

 

“Patrolling is just the nice word for stalking and killing. I don’t play nice anymore, Xander. Got no reason to, do I?”

So Spike hunted and Xander went to school. Thanks to generosity of the Watcher’s Council, he could afford to live in the city without a job. But doing nothing made him twitchy and he decided to try college. Much to his surprise, he was a stellar student with a real eye for design. If all went well, he’d eventually get his degree in architecture.

He tried to talk to Spike about how this made him feel and Spike just sat there, stony and silent. Another thing they didn’t do anymore, feelings. He could talk about his classes, the new things he learned, or the stupidity of his classmates and Spike would join in, laughing or snarling. But he couldn’t ever talk about his feelings. Spike didn’t trust him.

Time to get the Spike and Xander show rolling. They always went out. Sometimes Xander would think back wistfully to long nights spent cozied up watching a movie or playing cards, just being together. But they couldn’t just be now. Xander understood, just like understood why feelings were off limits, why kissing was forbidden, why Spike wouldn’t come to his place once in awhile.

Spike didn’t trust him. Didn’t have one good reason to trust him and Xander knew he should be grateful Spike was giving him this chance. Sometimes he was grateful. Sometimes he’d see Spike’s face, shadows playing tag over the dips and hollows, and his throat would tighten up. That face, so pure and lovely when Spike smiled, so gut tremblingly erotic when he sneered, that face was the one he longed to see. Full lips that he remembered tasted so sweet, that slid over body with such reverent care, blue eyes that saw everything about him.

Didn’t see him now, though. This was the ungrateful part. The bits of Xander that wanted, selfishly and greedily, to be loved again and skip all this stupid trust crap. The little voice that wondered how long he’d have to pay for his mistake.

That was what Spike was waiting for and Xander understood that too. Spike had trusted him, fully and completely. Spike had loved him beyond reason and so Xander had hurt him beyond reason.

“Wasn’t me, Xan. I wouldn’t…”

“Just shut up. I don’t want hear this. I can’t believe this. I can’t believe you. They saw you, Spike.”

“Don’t care what THEY said. I didn’t do it. I wouldn’t. If you would just listen, I’ll…”

“Get out.”

“Xander?”

“Get out before I take a stake to you.”

“No! I’ll make you hear me, damn it!”

“How? Gonna chain me up, Spike?”

“If I have to, yeah. Do whatever it takes to make you listen, luv. It wasn’t me and you have to know that!”

“Don’t call me that. I’m not your love. God, how could I ever have thought I loved you? Buffy was right, and I should have…”

“Should have what?”

“Get out and don’t come back. I’m done with you.”

“Xan?”

“I don’t love you. I don’t want you. It makes me sick, thinking about how I let you touch me. GET. OUT.”

He’d left. Xander finally found words strong enough to beat him down. It had been a mistake, a terrible mistake. A Slayer, poisoned with rage that her prey was allowed to walk free in their midst, telling lies. Lies he’d believed because he knew, knew, that it had to a scam. No other reason for Spike to be there with him. Now Spike wasn’t with him, and he understood.

Spike didn’t trust him because Spike loved him. Loved him still and feared him because of it. He held too much power, and Spike would never for a moment forget it. Eventually he might be forgiven, but Spike would never forget how terribly he had been wronged. Xander wasn’t sure he’d forget it, either.

Xander raised his hand to knock, and heard it. Spike’s soft sorrowful voice calling for him. Spike had sounded like that the night he’d thrown the blonde out of their house. So filled with pain and longing and confusion, like a child being punished without knowing why.

Xander tried to respect Spike and the walls he’d thrown up. He never dropped by unannounced, didn’t call without being asked, and generally made himself as unobtrusive as he could. But this was a horse of a different color. This was Spike needing him.

Xander threw up the unlocked door and rushed through the unfamiliar apartment looking for Spike. A few frantic moments of peering in various doors and he found the bedroom. Found Spike, thrashing in the middle of an enormous bed, calling his name plaintively.

Xander reacted without thinking. He climbed into bed, careful to avoid Spike’s flailing arms. Reaching out, he dragged the slighter man into his arms. Rocking Spike was second nature to Xander, rocking and holding and keeping the nightmares at bay with the sound of his voice.

Spike began to calm, his legs and arms moving fitfully as Xander held and rocked him. Spike never came out of these spells quickly or easily, almost as if the spirits that dogged him were reluctant to end their torment. It might be just that, Xander thought. Spike had killed a lot of people over the decades and who knew how many came back to get their own pound of flesh?

As Spike stilled, Xander took a minute to just look his fill. This face he’d memorized never changed and that comforted him in a bizarre raised on the Hellmouth way. No matter what happened, Spike would always be here. Xander blinked back the tears that stung his eyes.

That was what he’d stolen from Spike. The knowledge that he would always be there, no matter what. The contentment of having a love untainted by any bitterness or rancor. The certainty of knowing you’re loved and wanted and needed. He’d taken those simple pleasures and smashed them into a million pieces. He’d broken Spike.

The enormity of that slammed into him, and Xander couldn’t keep the tears back. They rolled down his face, a slow and steady rain. A finger trailed through the wet tracks, and Xander realized that Spike was finally awake. Aware. Staring at him.

Oh god, he’d busted in here and climbed in Spike’s bed. One more thing he’d taken away, the solitude and sanctuary of Spike’s place without him. Jesus, he was a grade A asshole. Maybe he should just go dust Drusilla and finish his little reign of Spike destruction.

Xander shook his head, sliding away from Spike. It was too much. He’d done too much and he couldn’t ever make it right. He didn’t need to hear it in harsh words and frozen tones. He knew.

“Hey,” Spike said softly.

“Hey,” Xander choked out.

“You leaving already, pet?”

“Yeah,” Xander nodded. “I get it, Spike. I took me two years, but I finally get it.”

“What do you ‘get’,” Spike asked cautiously.

“What I did. To you. To us,” Xander replied, voice ripe with shame.

“Hey, hey, none o’that.”

Spike latched onto him, holding Xander as tightly as Xander had held him. Spike crooned, nonsense soft and calming as his fingers brushed through Xander’s hair. Xander hung on fiercely, giving himself over to this last moment.

“I get it, I get it, I get it,” he chanted through his tears.

“Pet, luv, hush now,” Spike said frantically. “ ‘S over, done, yeah?”

“Can’t…can’t ever be over, Spike. Y-you don’t love me anymore and I’m sorry and I love you so much.” Xander was hysterical now; great gulping sobs putting him on the edge of hyperventilating.

“Do too love you, Xander. If I didn’t love you, you couldn’t hurt me like you do,” Spike murmured in his ear. “That’s what love is, pet.”

“I h-hate that! I hate th-that you think that. Love shouldn’t h-hurt.”

“Love doesn’t hurt, nit,” Spike thumped him affectionately. “Just means you can be hurt. If I didn’t care for you, nothing you did could hurt me.”

“B-but you don’t want me a-anymore. You don’t touch me or talk to me or…or…” Dizzy and weak, Xander gave up the fight to explain.

“Can’t, Xan,” Spike told him. “ ‘M afraid if I touch you, I’ll….lose myself. Can’t do that anymore. Need to find my own space, yeah? Need to be me first.”

Spike’s fingers weaved in and out of Xander’s hair, trailing down his face. Xander just lay there, relishing these soft touches. They sucked at words, always had. But their touches, their glances, those were proof. They filled in the gaps that words left behind.

“I’ve always been what was needed,” Spike finally continued. “Me mum needed a sweet lad, Dru wanted a deadly prince, Buffy demanded a hero. I changed like the winds, floating along for whoever would have me. And there’s so much of me that is all of those things. Still want to be sweet, deadly, heroic. Just have to…figure it out, I guess.”

“What did you change for me,” Xander asked.

“Tried to deny myself,” Spike answered. “You didn’t want the demon, so I pretended I wasn’t one. Got to be as bad as Angel for a while. Just another normal human with a bit of an allergy to sun and crosses, ‘cause that’s what you wanted.”

“I never forgot you were a demon,” Xander defended himself.

“Course you didn’t and you’d be stupid if you did,” Spike rejoined smoothly. “But not forgetting and accepting’s two different things, innit? I still want, Xander. I feel guilty as nine hells, but I still want. The sweet sounds of death, the scalding hot blood of a ripe chit being plowed, I still want it. Can’t make it go away and you din’t want to know, did you?”

“Still don’t, “Xander confessed.

“An’ I understand. But it’s who I am, at least part. I’m all mixed up inside. That’s why I haven’t been gettin’ up close and personal. Not that I don’t want you or love you. Just not sure who to be,” Spike explained. “And if I give in, take the comfort you’re offerin’, I’m afraid I’ll never know who to be.”

“So you still…want to be with me,” Xander asked hesitantly. “I mean, you want us to be together, assuming that there is an us which is in no way me assuming that. I’m not taking for granted guy anymore. Nope, definitely not. Just asking because there are no stupid questions, right? Well, some questions are…”

“Xander,” Spike sighed gustily. “I missed your babble. You’re the champ of the whole Scooby babbling team.”

“I am? Really?” Xander grinned tentatively.

“Yeah,” Spike nodded gravely. “Nobody can run on like you, luv. Now, what’s say we go watch some telly?”

Spike pulled Xander off the bed, dragging him towards the living room. Xander smiled and allowed himself to be dragged. Watching TV with Spike sounded like heaven right now. It was a start, anyways.


End file.
